The Best, The Only
by orpheneritus
Summary: ToriShishi GakuShi When there is only one person you want to be with.
1. The Best

'I don't know how you stand it, Ohtori.' Mukahi huffed and tossed his Hyoutei jersey down on the bench.

'Stand what?' he replied absently, having become used to Mukahi's penchant for over exaggeration.

'Shishido,' he drawled as if his topic of conversation had been completely obvious. 'That boy just can't take a joke,' he threw up his arms in exasperation.

Ohtori nodded politely concealing an amused grin. 'Well, your jokes aren't always that funny, Mukahi.'

'What? My jokes are hysterical,' the red haired boy flopped down to the bench in exaggerated disbelief. 'Jirou thinks so anyway,' he grinned. 'But Shishido, he's just unreasonably angry all the time.'

'The time you put baking soda and lemon juice in his water bottle wasn't really that funny.'

Mukahi frowned. 'Well I didn't expect him to be holding it when the top blew. My plan didn't involve a black eye. Still most of the time Shishido's a real grump. The guy has something against fun. I mean what do you two do together anyway?'

'Do?' Ohtori questioned hoisting his tennis bag onto his shoulder.

'For fun…'

Ohtori thought for a moment. He always had fun. 'We play tennis at the street courts, that's always fun. Shishido likes to win.'

'Besides tennis, Ohtori… don't you two do anything else together?' Mukahi shoved his tennis uniform into his bag.

Ohtori shrugged. 'What do you and Oshitari do?'

Mukahi grinned. 'Everything. The arcade, take out, movies, we hang out all the time. Laugh, have fun and just generally talk about shit.'

'S-shit?' Ohtori stumbled feeling self conscious.

'Tennis, music, movies, love… sex. Everything. There's no one Yuushi likes to be with more than me. Can you say the same thing about Shishido?' Mukahi arched an eyebrow at him, his eyes narrowing in doubt.

'I don't know… I guess we don't really talk that much.' And they didn't. Even their discussions about tennis were brief. Ohtori had never really thought about what it meant to be close friends with someone.

He was well liked by everyone, but he wanted to be more than well liked by Shishido.

'Ohtori?' Mukahi touched him gently on the arm. 'I didn't mean to make you sad.'

'You didn't,' he replied forcing a small smile and zipping his tennis bag closed.

Mukahi nodded, his mouth tightly pursed. 'It's just that he doesn't seem to be that nice to you.'

'It's okay, Mukahi. I'm going. You waiting for Oshitari?' he asked. Mukahi nodded and squeezed his arm.

'I'm sorry.'

Ohtori heard the whispered apology, but didn't acknowledge it.

'Eh, Ohtori, what took you so long?' Shishido called out to him as he left the clubhouse with a casual wave.

'Ah, Shishido-sempai,' he blushed, cursing himself for his own embarrassment. 'I was talking to Mukahi-kun.'

Shishido's face instantly darkened, his eyes narrowing menacingly. 'That little shit,' he muttered darkly. 'One day—' Shishido unclenched his fists and took a calming breath.

Ohtori tried not to smile, with reasonable success. 'What happened?' he asked already having a fair idea of what sort of prank would've occurred. He just didn't understand why Mukahi had to constantly choose Shishido to play his jokes on.

'He greased the handle of my racquet. I almost seriously injured a first year. He just never thinks about anything, his jokes are stupid and dangerous. I'll have to talk to Oshitari about keeping his little—' Shishido stopped suddenly and turned away from Ohtori.

'His little what?' he asked confused by Shishido's behavior.

'Nothing,' he replied darkly.

Ohtori recoiled from his dark mood. Shishido was often moody, but it wasn't usually directed at him. It was obvious that Shishido didn't want to share his thoughts and usually Ohtori respected his wishes. He was a private person… but surely if they were truly good friends they could talk about it. Maybe even laugh about it together. There were so many things he wanted to laugh about with Shishido, but he didn't want to take advantage.

They walked alongside each other their silence becoming strained and uncomfortable. Ohtori was pulled of balance when Shishido grabbed his arm and pulled him up to the vending machine. 'What do you want?' he asked scrounging around in his pocket for change.

'Oh,' Ohtori looked sidelong at his scowling face. 'Nothing, I'm fine,' he replied.

Shishido squeezed his eyes shut with a grunt and Ohtori was pretty sure he could hear him grinding his teeth. 'Just pick something,' he yelled angrily, hands fisting at his side.

Ohtori jumped in surprise. 'Shi—'

Shishido held up his hand to stop him. 'Ohtori,' he took a deep breath. 'I'm your sempai and I'm trying to buy you a drink… So just pick something already.'

'Melon, please,' he replied quickly, feeling that his response had to exceed the speed of his scud serve.

'Hai, Melon. Good. You like Melon it's your favorite.'

Ohtori smiled widely. It was his favorite. Shishido turned in time to catch his smile and grunted in response.

'So, do you want to head out to the courts for a game?' Shishido tugged his cap a little lower and hitched his bag up on his shoulder as they walked along the path.

Ohtori frowned a little. Mukahi was right about some things. Tennis was the only thing they did together. 'Sure, let's go to the courts.'

Shishido glanced up from under the peak of his cap, with a sharp gaze. 'You don't want to go,' he stated with a slightly accusatory tone.

'No. No, of course I want to… I just thought that maybe we could do something else.' Ohtori took a sip of his soda.

'Something else? Like what?'

Ohtori thought of all the things Mukahi had mentioned trying to think of one that Shishido might like to do. 'Um… we could go to a movie?' he ventured.

Ohtori almost walked right into Shishido as he stepped in front of him, blocking his way. Even though Ohtori was at least a foot taller than his doubles partner, Shishido had a physical presence that was so intense, he had actually backed up a few steps without noticing.

'Is something wrong?' he asked advancing further on Ohtori. 'Is there somewhere that you need to be? I don't want to keep you if you have to go, Ohtori.'

'No, Shishido-san,' he protested violently.

'There's no one I'd rather be with than you,' he blurted.

Shishido shifted his weight uncomfortably. 'Oh,' Shishido turned awkwardly pulling the cap from his head and brushing a hand through his hair.

'S-so a… we can go to the courts then,' Ohtori stuttered as Shishido pulled his cap back on.

He switched his bag to his other shoulder and started walking towards the courts, hoping that Shishido would follow.

'Ohtori.' He could hear the footsteps catching up to him. 'Choutarou,' Shishido's arm gripped him by the elbow and he stopped. Maybe more from the use of his first name than the grip on his arm.

'You're the person I like to be with too,' he mumbled quietly. 'So maybe you could come round after tennis and we could watch a movie or something.'


	2. The Only

'There's no one Yuushi likes to be with more than me.' He had bragged… he had believed it too.

Believed with all his heart that Yuushi preferred him to every other person he had ever met. Because everyone knew that Gakuto preferred Yuushi… he'd never tried to hide it.

Yuushi understood him, listened to him, and liked him in spite of his selfishness. He tolerated his nastiness and was generally bemused by his outspoken personality. When Gakuto had been friendless, Yuushi had picked him. Picked him out of two-hundred other tennis players trying to catch his eye for long enough to be chosen as his doubles partner.

But it had been him who was chosen. Him, because he was better than the others. Better for Yuushi. Best for Yuushi.

And Yuushi was best for him. Not just the best, the only.

When Yuushi had touched him he had confessed. 'You're the only one, Yuushi,' he had panted into his ear. Wet and slick with sweat as Yuushi had given him sensations he'd never experienced before.

Yuushi had smiled and pressed his lips to his neck. 'I know, Gakuto. I'm the only one for you.' His heart had hammered wildly in his chest. Not just because Yuushi's hands were teaching him everything anew, but because they felt the same way.

Except that he didn't. Didn't say that Gakuto was the only one for him.

The thing about playing doubles was that you became hyper-sensitive to everything about your partner. Some days he could tell what mood Yuushi would be in before they even met up. He was proud of his achievement, because reading Yuushi was hard. He thought he knew.

The thing about playing doubles is you can recognize their voice from anywhere. From three meters away, from behind the lockers… from the pant of passion and tone of urgency.

Gakuto knew a lot about Yuushi. The subtle inflections of his Kansai accent, the lilt of his dry humor. He knew the curve of his hip, the indent of his lips and the planes of his back.

Atobe also knew the planes of his back.

His elegant long fingered hand pressed against the small of Yuushi's back. Not hesitant and light, as Gakuto's would lay upon his skin, but strong and confident as was everything about their leader. Yes, Atobe knew the planes of his back.

He also knew the curve of Yuushi's hip. He knew it better than Gakuto. Fingers traveling confidently over the rise and sliding down under the waistline. Last time Yuushi had gasped it had been for him. His short intake of breath exhaling in a throaty groan against his shoulder as Gakuto had nervously stroked his hardness feeling embarrassed and awkward, yet gratified at his every expression of pleasure.

It was different with Atobe. He leant back from the other boy holding him away so he could gaze hotly at Atobe's performance. Stroke his defined shoulders and admire the ripple and shift of Atobe's stomach.

The can of axel grease that he'd used on Shishido's racquet, fell from his listless fingers, the noise camouflaged as Yuushi's head fell back with a cry and Atobe's mouth twisted with a satisfied smirk.

He could hear the bark of Atobe's laughter as Yuushi whispered something to him, perhaps something sweet like he had whispered to Gakuto, all hot and thickly accented. Except Atobe had the sense to laugh at the joke.

Completely guileless. He'd believed. As the shuffle and scrape of their clothes being arranged took over from the intimacy of their whispering, Gakuto pressed himself to the wall to avoid a discovery he couldn't accept.

The lights flickered off, leaving him in semi-darkness. The door latched shut behind them. With each second the clubhouse clock ticked, the vice squeezing his chest ratcheted tighter. Breath passed rapidly through his nose, as he felt that the very life might be squeezed out of him too.

Atobe was best. Beautiful, confident Atobe.

Gakuto looked at his half lit reflection in the mirrors along the wall. His sharp angled face bisected by the light from the courts, his arms and legs white and skinny, his chest rippled only by the outline of his own ribs.

The joke had been on him.


End file.
